


Take My Breath Away

by amyfortuna



Series: 2016 Season of Kink (Card 1) [18]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Father/Son Incest, Hand Jobs, M/M, Massage, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 12:35:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8162245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: Fëanor knows what to do to ease the pain of Maedhros' scars - both physical and emotional.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fulfils my Season of Kink square for body modifications/scars.

"Don't hold your breath like that," Fëanor said, leaning over Maedhros to correct his posture. "Relax. This will be easier if you hold yourself loosely rather than tensing up." 

"I can't help tensing, somehow," Maedhros said anxiously, but allowed his father to manipulate his limbs, draping him over the bed in a way that was utterly enticing. The long scars down his back shone in the light of the lamp. 

In saving his father from Morgoth's Balrogs, Maedhros had been severely injured, left with painful scars all down his back from their whips. His convalescence had been long and painful, and only now, months later, was he near back to his old strength, and that only due to the tender care Fëanor had given him every day.

Fëanor kissed him on the shoulder, just at the top of the worst scar. "Your scars are beautiful, beloved," he said as though partaking in a ritual. "They are the evidence of your love for me, your sacrifice. Because of them I am alive." 

"They were worth it," Maedhros whispered, and the tension slowly seemed to ease out of him a little. Fëanor's hands on him were warm, and when a little warm almond oil was drizzled over his back, he gave a sigh and relaxed into it. 

All was very still in the camp. It was early yet; the first bell had not rung. Fëanor stroked Maedhros' back, working the oil into the scars. For a long while there was silence, disturbed only by the soft breeze blowing across the roof, making the banners just outside the door snap and flutter. 

"Turn over," Fëanor said, finishing his task, and Maedhros turned carefully, now smiling up at Fëanor with shining eyes. He was hard, and Fëanor answered his unspoken question with a grin, and made haste to divest himself of his own breeches, the only clothes he wore, then slid back onto the bed, curling up next to Maedhros. 

One of the scars on his back curved around to his front, evidence of the lash of a fiery whip, and Fëanor bent, kissing it softly, running a finger along it. "Shining-beautiful love token," he whispered. "Your love is written into your very skin. You take my breath away." 

"Come here," Maedhros said, and hauled him close, kissing him over and over with long deep kisses that sent both their senses reeling. Fëanor slid one hand into his son's hair, and the other, still slick with oil, down to take hold of both their cocks, stroking them together with purposefully slow, warm strokes, until Maedhros was crying out into his mouth, panting helplessly. 

Fëanor pressed soft kisses to Maedhros' face. "Breathe, my love," he said, "and let go." 

Maedhros looked at him with unfocused eyes, overwhelmed, desperate, and came with a soft cry, leaning forward to press his head against Fëanor's shoulder with an ecstatic sob. Fëanor followed him almost immediately, and for a long time they held each other, breathing hard in perfect unison. 

Fëanor, at last, tilted Maedhros' head back and laid a final kiss on his lips, warm and tender. "Less tense now?" he asked, a faint trace of amusement evident in his voice. 

Maedhros grinned and wrapped his arms around his father, running both his hands up and down his back. "You always know what to say to make me feel perfectly at ease."


End file.
